


Honor Among Thieves

by TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Blow Jobs As A Distraction Tactic, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Phantom Thieves Vs. Detectives, Porn With Plot, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard
Summary: Every phantom thief worth their snuff has a very... diverse... range of talents.
Relationships: Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Honor Among Thieves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jumilsbish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumilsbish/gifts), [minbins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbins/gifts).



In this line of work, where secrets are currency, nearly every job starts with a rumor.

There’s more people in this game than you’d think. More people with their ears to the ground, so to speak. It’s not the kind of news you’d get off the TV but someone always knows someone who knows something about  _ something _ . 

And those whispers are bound to spread. 

To be a phantom thief is to know such things before others know such things. To be there before others get there and to leave before everyone else shows up.

To be a phantom thief is to ignore your moral compass and do anything to reach your goal.

And to do all of that, you have to obtain information.

It’s just that information gets…  _ fuzzy _ the more mouths and ears it passes through. 

Words lose their meaning as they’re repeated. Names are lost. (Doctor Jebediah Fairweather from Harvard becomes ‘The Professor’ and even _ that  _ dissolves into ‘a special guest.’) Directions get jumbled. Locations get mixed up. Names of events get scrambled. (An auction said to take place in Daegu might actually be an art show in Seoul or it could be a cultural festival in Incheon or even a museum exhibit in Gwangju.) Dates get turned around. (The 12th becomes the 21st and then, somehow, morphs into the 2nd.) Some of the time, these errors are genuine human accidents. Most of the time, though, the information is skewed purposefully. Incorrect tidbits are passed around the table for the sole purpose of misdirection. For the sole purpose of keeping the truth hidden and discovering the source of the leaks. 

The less people who know the specifics, the less competition there’ll be on the job.

Lies come to Hyunjae’s tongue easier than the truth does but that also means the truth is just that much harder to hear.

This particular job may be Hyunjae’s biggest score yet. Bigger than that so-called priceless music box from Germany. Bigger than that collection of jade statues from that Hong Kong museum. Bigger than that million dollar violin from Spain. Bigger than that prototype drone from the UK. Bigger than that Renaissance painting he’d gotten away with after vacationing in Italy. Bigger than the last remaining hardbound copy of that forbidden, banned book in Nepal. Bigger, still, than those little pornographic statues in Japan. Hell, this is probably an even bigger job than that medieval European halberd. 

Hyunjae’s not usually into diamonds, but when in Rome… Or, rather, when in Busan… 

“We’ve arrived, sir,” says the driver from the front seat. A taxi cab would have been conspicuous at a place like this so Hyunjae had gone with a private chauffeur company, where the cars come blacked out with tinted windows and TVs in the headrests. The driver meets Hyunjae’s eyes in the rearview for only a second before making the last turn into the parking lot. He’s an older gentleman, noticeably weathered and gray-haired but with a steady hand on the wheel. He says, “Shall I find parking and wait?”

No loose ends. “That won’t be necessary,” Hyunjae responds, tugging on his favorite pair of leather gloves. Left hand first, then right hand. “Just pull up to the front. I’ve already left you a generous tip.” You can never go wrong with some I-was-never-here money.

“As you wish, sir,” the driver states.

Hyunjae spends his last few moments in the car staring out of the window, mentally preparing himself. Going through his plans. His info.

The target that he’s after is called Hecate’s Doorknob. Silly, yes. Most precious jewels over a particular value are usually given pretentious names. At least this one makes mild sense. The moniker is derived from the Greek goddess of witchcraft and doorways. Though Hyunjae usually isn’t keen on learning more about his targets except their monetary value and how many possible buyers he’ll have for it once he’s stolen it, the backstory of the fist-sized diamond intrigued him enough to connect more dots than he tends to.

In fact, this whole job has been about connecting dots. 

It’s kind of what he gets for treating Sunwoo so coldly that the kid just up and left. Taking all of his electronic gadgets and his beefy, custom-made desktop when he did so. Hyunjae hadn’t even blinked at the guy’s absence. Hadn’t felt a pang of guilt. He just broke the lease on that old, compromised apartment and found himself a new place. Not a  _ fresh _ start but a start nonetheless. 

He refused to let Sunwoo’s departure set him back. He still had his tools. His money. His own tech. His own street smarts and web of informants. But Sunwoo did have a skilled hand in the kitchen and was rock star enough to give himself tattoos.

Perhaps Hyunjae did miss him. A little.

Because it wasn’t until Sunwoo quit on him that Hyunjae realized just how many menial tasks and basic research Sunwoo stayed on top of. Monitoring news articles for certain keywords. Ordering tacos on the weekend. Even for this particular job, Hyunjae spent  _ weeks _ doing his own library scouring and internet searching, reading  _ newspapers _ of all damn things, making his own phone calls after buying his own burners. He’s quite over it.

But what’s done is done. 

He’s here now. And he can only hope his own hard work has got him pointed in the right direction.

The risk of putting all of his energy into the wrong set of rumors comes with the territory, though. There’s always a chance he’s come all the way out here on the wrong night, for the wrong event, to the wrong hotel, etc. 

But learning to be cool with that is also part of his job.

If he can’t get the diamond, at least he’s at the beach on a gorgeous summer evening.  _ You can’t beat that view _ , he sighs as he peers at the white sand beach and the lovely blue waves through the trunks of the palm trees.

It’s a touch shy of 7:30 PM and the summer sun is just beginning to set, staining the overcast sky above pink and orange. The hired car pulls up to the curb outside of the ritzy, five-star beachfront hotel and Hyunjae steps out of the back seat in his finest, sharpest suit. 

Everyone thinks thieves should blend in but Hyunjae can never do anything  _ except _ stand out. It’s simply what he does.

Hyunjae’s hair is done up, pushed back away from his forehead and sprayed down for maximum shine and superior hold. His suit is a flashy teal in color with a crisp, patterned dress shirt and a bold, solid-color tie. Tailored pants snugly fit his toned thighs. Designer shades sit on his nose, the lenses a striking orange. Even his shoes are stark white leather with gold buckles on the straps. It’s almost to the point of gaudy, to the point of ostentatious, but once he’s part of the slow-moving river of celebrities heading across the courtyard, it’s nearly criminal how easily he blends in.

“So far so good,” he mumbles. Force of habit. He’s so used to Sunwoo being halfway inside his head, on the other end of a wireless connection. 

There’s only silence now.

Whatever. 

Hyunjae keeps his back straight and his face impassive even though he wants to gawk at all of the famous faces around him and take in the glitzy architecture of the hotel.

Millionaires and politicians and celebrities and philanthropists mill about in the courtyard, dressed in their best, dolled up for the occasion. The fake smiles plastered on their faces are as dazzling as the necklaces that wrap their throats or the watches that circle their wrists. To the reporters snapping photos, and even to most of the guests, this is simply a charity auction. The legitimate donations go to a distant country severely imperiled by storm damage and flooding from the recent rainy season. It’s for a good cause and the positive publicity is too great for most names here to pass up. But to the select few, to those  _ in the know _ , tonight is all about the diamond exchanging hands in an entirely separate auction. And if Hyunjae does this right (which he will, because he’s Hyunjae), then that diamond will be going home with  _ him _ and not whoever has brought enough millions to attract the attention of the foreign professor who has flown over the ocean to bring it here.

Casually, Hyunjae walks up the red carpet, separated from the crowd of hungry photographers and gawking fans by a mere stretch of velvet rope and the occasional stern shout from a security guard. He smiles in the direction of the flashing bulbs from the cameras, raising an open palm in a parade wave when a photographer shouts ‘You, handsome, look this way!’ 

Hyunjae doesn’t stop for too long. The slow-moving parade must constantly push forward. There are politicians here. Activists and representatives from non-profit organizations. Actresses and film directors and athletes and musicians. Famous authors and well-known university professors and art historians and environmental scientists. Everyone here has a name that can easily be pulled up on any portal site or search engine. Hyunjae is more than handsome enough to claim to be from some idol group if asked, but all it’ll take is the right person to look at him and ask ‘Who are you?’ for everyone else to start asking him that same thing over and over, making his entire facade come crashing down.

He must blend in, though he hates that very thought. He  _ must _ look like he belongs.

It’s a longer walk up the red carpet than he expects. It looks short from the other side of the TV screen but here, actually walking it, actually  _ living it _ , the crimson walkway feels like it extends beyond a kilometer. Perhaps even two. And the journey is made all the longer by how slowly he must walk to keep pace with all of the other celebs, to pause and step, pause and step, as a new section of cameras turn in his direction as he approaches.

Hyunjae isn’t too worried about being photographed. Despite how long his list of stolen artifacts is, the number of law enforcers who have attached his face to his moniker (simply H) is quite slim. And by the time they see his photos here,  _ if _ they see his photos here, the event would be long over and he would be long gone. His face will probably never make it to Naver anyways. It’ll be some poor intern’s job to sift through all of the shots, trying to find the big name celebrities to put at the top of all of the entertainment sites and online newspapers. No one will post his photo because no one will know who he is. No one will have a name to place in the caption. And that’s fine. They’ll assume he’s some D-list celebrity who actually made it to one big event and then not look more closely than that.

Security is tight around the doors. As expected.

The typical muscle in suits and shades lingering in the twilit shadows, yes, but also a handful of police officers keeping their eyes on the crowd of reporters. What’s out of the ordinary is a smattering of hotel staff walking about with walkie-talkies and iPads, presumably double-checking the attendance lists.

Hyunjae wants to groan in frustration but he keeps his face wonderfully placid.

This is a mild oversight on his part.

Sunwoo would have seen this coming a mile away and would have used whatever techno-wizardry was at his disposal to get Hyunjae on the list.

But Sunwoo bailed on him and took all the info on their upcoming Australia job with him.

Shit.

Hyunjae pauses at the foot of the hotel’s grand front stairs. He becomes a rock, steady and unmoving in a river of passing faces and bodies. He looks around desperately and can feel with each passing second that he’s becoming more suspicious. He can sense the weight of eyes on him and spots the movement of two guards turning in his direction while they mutter back and forth. 

Salvation is walking up right behind him.

Hyunjae flashes a charming smile at a middle-aged actress and offers to help her get the train of her sparkling dress up the stairs and, just like that, he’s being waved through the front doors by bouncers and steps through the metal detector and security frisk without pause.

He’s in.

But he can’t relax. Not yet.

It may have been easier to sneak in through some unguarded back door but Hyunjae can’t do subtle, even at the risk of getting exposed.

The hotel lobby is abuzz with movement and noise and color as celebrities and politicians mingle.

A string quartet are in the far corner, playing some sweeping melody that is so familiar that it irks Hyunjae that he can’t properly recall the name of it or where it’s from.

Security guards line the perimeter of the lobby, keeping the hotel’s regular guests from getting too rowdy from all the fanfare. 

There are fewer reporters and flashing camera bulbs inside and these guys seem less starstruck by famous rich people and more intent on gleaning information about the donations, on getting opinions about the flooded country in a different sea. The reporters move from cluster of people to cluster of people like apex predators, digital recorders in hand, hungrily seeking clickbait phrases from celebs they can use as headlines for their pieces.

The manager of the hotel also moves about the lobby. In staggeringly high heels and a stark white pantsuit, she greets some of the more well-known names in the crowd and offers up information about the hotel’s numerous accommodations and amenities, smiling brightly between candy-coated compliments while covertly-but-no-so-covertly attempting to get into as many photos with celebrities as she can manage, a pamphlet with the hotel’s name in her hands expertly tilted towards the nearest set of cameras.

An usher with her hair in a long, intricate braid down her back moves around the space, politely waving a hand in the direction of the hallway everyone needs to move down, gently suggesting that everyone be in their seats before the main event starts in half an hour. 

Not wanting to be approached, not wanting to be cornered and found out, Hyunjae slides through the crowd with single-minded intention, hands casually tucked into his pockets. Every now and then, he sweeps his eyes around the joint, pretending to be in awe of the high-class decor. But, in terms of opulence, he’s seen glitzier. What he really does is check for stairs, doors, hallways, elevators, bathrooms, and maintenance closets. Any place he can use to run or hide. He compares what he sees out here to the maps and blueprints he’s memorized. He goes out of his way to avoid making eye contact with others, mainly to make it that much easier for him to determine who is watching him.

“So far so good,” he says again. Still forgetting that there’s no line for Sunwoo to be on the other end of. 

Dammit. He’s got to break that habit.

Hyunjae will never be fully relaxed on a job but he does allow a bit of tension to seep out of his spine and shoulders. “You did this on your own when you first started a decade ago,” he tells himself. “Don’t forget that.” There was that string of larceny he commited in Gangnam. There was that San Francisco job with all that top-secret engineering data. That Cozumel venture. That so-called impenetrable bank vault in Russia. That trip to Egypt that was supposed to be a quick, week-long task but ended up being five months of puzzle-solving, cipher-deciphering, petty theft and grave robbing. He utters, “See? Look at that resume. That was before Sunwoo leeched onto your ass. You can go back to doing it on your own. Easy.” It’s just a matter of brushing off a set of skills he hasn’t used in a few years.

Time ticks away and more and more celebrities move to the adjacent hallway to make their way to the appropriate conference hall. 

Hyunjae gets a move on, trying to look like part of the crowd without being an active participant in it.

He only speaks when spoken to and politely excuses himself out of any conversation that veers past benign small talk. He has to stay focused. He has to keep track of all the security cameras. All of the reinforced doors that’ll block his way in a lockdown. If he doesn’t plan his routes carefully, he’ll just end up trapped.

The information he bought off a source nearly three weeks ago was… sparse, to put it kindly. None of the names he’s familiar with matched up with any of the names he saw on the charity site’s guest list and there was no mention of the diamond at all in any of the articles he’d gotten a hold of. In fact, from what he could tell in his research, the diamond was supposed to be in transit to London where it was meant to be temporarily displayed at a museum in a new exhibit before being moved to France. 

Nothing’s adding up. But he’s done enough events like this to guess that the diamond’s exact whereabouts wouldn’t be broadcasted online for the entire world to see. Though there’s always the possibility that such information is correct and that the diamond has never been here.  _ Will  _ never be here. 

But he’s got to stay optimistic. He has to work under the assumption that he’s on the right track.

Let’s see… For something secretive like this, Hyunjae thinks, there’s a possibility the diamond is actually here. The general public will be shown one side of things while those in the know will slip off to a different room. One that’s far more exclusive and harder to penetrate. In a hotel of this size, though, that could mean any of the other half dozen conference halls or any lounge or private meeting room on a number of the hotel’s floors.

He’ll have to narrow down his options. Fast. He has to get to that diamond! The best time to snag it will be before or right at the start of the auction. Wait too much longer after that and he’ll never get close to it as its moved from the hotel and shipped to the buyer.

Hyunjae’s just about made it to the entrance of the hallway on the far side of the lobby when a member of the hotel staff deliberately steps into his path.

For a terrifying moment, Hyunjae thinks he’s been caught already, but then the staff member holds up a tray lined with champagne glasses, sings out “A drink?” and offers a dip of his head and a smile. 

Hyunjae lifts a glass from the tray. “Thank you,” he says, and then starts his way down the hallway before he can be stopped by anyone else.

With a sigh, he eyes the champagne glass in his hand.

Getting drunk on a job can be dangerous for his hand-eye coordination and situational awareness but there are eyes everywhere so Hyunjae tilts the glass to his mouth and pretends to take a hearty swig before subtly spitting his mouthful back into the glass as he lowers it. The drink leaves a delightful fizz on his tongue. Sweet and light and peachy. The kind of drink that makes you forget you’re sipping alcohol. In other words, the best kind. The worst kind.

As he meanders down the corridor, following the general flow of traffic, Hyunjae peers down the side hallways, checking for stairwells, maintenance closets, and utility rooms. Looking for any other gatherings of well-dressed folks that’ll point him the right and secret way. 

There are none.

Most of the hotel’s occupants seem to be here for this auction and he’ll stand out like a sore thumb attempting to go in any other direction but this one.

He bows to and greets an older gentleman who he vaguely recognizes from television and then does his best to ‘yes’ and ‘mmhmm’ his way through a conversation with an aging politician who has mistaken him for someone else, some tech startup guy named Younghoon who is set to acquire a big-name company in a multi-billion won deal before the year is out.

It takes nearly five minutes, but Hyunjae makes it to the double doors of the conference hall. 

More security. More hotel staff checking names.

Shit.

Wasn’t once enough?

The crowd’s too thin for him to march right up. He’ll be singled out for sure.

Hyunjae waits for a young, handsome actor and his assortment of hangers-on to approach the hotel staff members and then uses the bottleneck of bodies at the doors to slip through without being pestered.

Belatedly, a spark of recognition flashes in Hyunjae’s head.

Like lightning. A firework of memory bursting in vibrant color.

Back in the lobby… The champagne glass… 

He  _ knows _ that waiter, he realizes. As unlikely as it seems, given he’s taken a flight to the other side of the country where he shouldn’t know anyone. But even when he tries to wave the suspicion away, his brain clings onto the man’s face, as best as the guy tried to hide it from him. Hyunjae’s seen that jawline before. Those high cheekbones. Those mischievous eyes behind a pair of thick-lensed glasses. Those thick lips. That head of bleached blonde hair.

“Eric,” Hyunjae hisses aloud. “Goddammit.” Being as subtle as he can manage, he glances over his shoulder, back towards the hallway, but if Eric’s been tailing him, the guy’s made himself scarce. 

This comes as a relief rather than as an annoyance. If another thief is here, especially one as notorious and infamous as Eric, then there’s a higher possibility that Hyunjae’s info is right and that the diamond, or something of equally high value, is indeed here tonight.

The hard part starts now.

Still walking casually and confidently, he strolls farther into the event hall.

Even from what he’s spotted of the round tables draped in lacy white tablecloth, Hyunjae sees that the seats are assigned. Small, folded cards sit in front of each chair, listing names of people from all over the industry in swirling cursive. Hyunjae’s name will not be among them. And sitting in the wrong chair is a guaranteed way to draw unwanted attention. If not immediately when his tablemates do not recognize him, then later down the line when the name’s true owner shows up.

The diamond surely won’t be auctioned off here in the main hall, he thinks. But right now, this place packed with people is his only source of info. He’s got to find even a crumb of evidence about the secret auction before the big event starts.

Hyunjae turns his head and takes in the swanky decorations and flower bouquets. 

There’s an area off to the side, opposite the stage, where a team of caterers are still setting up food and drinks but one of the white-clothed employees shoos him away when he lingers for too long near one of the tables of hors d’oeuvres. 

Hyunjae sticks to the walls of the room, counting up the doors and side hallways. He’s always on the lookout for an escape route. For a set of stairs or hall that the average person won’t be looking for when their eyes should be on the stage. Most of the event hall’s entryways are blocked by guards. He doesn’t intend to attract their attention but he will inevitably do so if he keeps shuffling about with no purpose or destination.

He will have to make some attempt to sit. It’s not like he can get through an event like this while standing up. 

But it’s not like he can get a read on where the diamond is being kept if he can’t keep an eye on all of the doors, though. 

Fuck. What a dilemma. This is why he needs Sunwoo! Or  _ someone  _ on his side, keeping eyes on everything.

No. No. He’ll be fine on his own. He’s just gotta take this step by step.

He’ll get seated first, he decides. And watch the movements of the guards and hotel staff to see how they handle the items going up for auction. Even as he turns his head and scans the room, the chairs slowly fill and he will be shit out of luck in less than ten minutes. Less than five, even.

He will be left standing. A sham exposed. Security will single him out before the first speaker goes on stage. 

In fact, he’s already found himself in some young man’s crosshairs.

Hotel staff, not security, Hyunjae reckons by the red velvet vest and pinstripe pants. Armed with a deadly iPad and I-just-want-to-be-helpful smile, the guy heads right for him. He’ll ask Hyunjae for his name, certainly, and waste both of their time searching the seating charts for it. 

Hyunjae makes a reckless decision. 

He sidesteps to his right, puts on his best smile and greets a barely-recognizable face. “Director Lee,” he calls out, as if he and Sangyeon are best friends and not complete strangers. “Congrats on your latest numbers at the box office.” At least Hyunjae knows  _ Paris Sight _ just hit theaters back in June. At least he’s done enough net searching to know who he’s looking at.

The director glances up at him, more annoyed than anything. “Opening weekend was pretty weak, even with the holiday.” 

“Really? I thought the ticket sales were impressive, considering what you were up against. Isn’t summer time when horror movies really get big?”

“I personally wouldn’t categorize it as horror.” The director glances away from him but at least he keeps talking. “My last film did better domestically but apparently this one’s a hit overseas. I suppose I should be pleased with that or something. That’s what everyone tells me.” 

“The movie’s all the rage on Twitter,” Hyunjae praises him. “I know a bit of English so I’ve been keeping track of the memes.”

The director returns his attention to his champagne glass. “Memes? Ugh. Those people… They’re all idiotic,” Sangyeon declares, running his free hand through his hair. “Everyone’s obsessed with that scene of the characters ringing the doorbell, completely overlooking the movie’s entire premise.” 

“They are fans,” Hyunjae corrects with a boisterous laugh. “And let your audience have their fun, why don’t you?”

The director looks up at him. Gosh, he looks so young up close. He can’t be much older than Hyunjae yet he’s already achieved this level of fame. Sangyeon sits back in his chair a bit. Here comes the moment of scrutiny. Hyunjae knows he’s in for it. Sangyeon furrows his eyebrows. “Who are you again?”

The dreaded question. That awful fucking question!

Hyunjae glances up and assesses his escape routes. The hotel staff member he saw earlier is still in the area, a table or two away, helping an older politician into her chair. He probably won’t be able to get far with such a shark in the water but he will have to attempt. Hyunjae starts, “I’d best be going--”

Director Lee cuts him off. “Who let you in?”

Most of the other people at the table pause in their conversations to turn their heads towards the two men. 

Dammit. This is exactly what he should have avoided! He’d gotten too close. Too personal. Put himself at the center of someone’s attention when he’s always supposed to skirt around it. Perhaps he tried too hard to engage in conversation? He should have just praised the man and moved on to a different table.

Hyunjae scrambles for an explanation. But--

“I know you,” says a finely-dressed woman with her hair in a gargantuan up-do. 

That’s not good. No one here should  _ know  _ him. That’s the entire point!

The woman goes, “Don’t you bring me my coffee?” She points a painted fingernail at him, almost accusatory. “You look so different in a suit.”

Someone else at the table asks, “Brings you your coffee? Like a barista? A waiter?”

“No. Like an intern or something on the set of my drama.”

“A gofer?”

“No. Like--”

Hyunjae’s never brought anyone coffee in his entire life but this can still go bad if he doesn’t wrangle some amount of control over this. “You wouldn’t know me,” he says quickly. “I’ve only been in a handful of film festival projects.” The lie comes easily. Like all of the rest. The backstory is already complete in his head. He’s an idol group member trying to break into acting, he’ll say. He starred in one of those niche queer films, he’ll say. Something a little risque with boundary-pushing nudity.

But he doesn’t even get a chance to spout such nonsense. The celebrities at the table merely discard him from the conversation. No more accusations. No threats of calling security. They change topics entirely and Director Lee turns his whole body away from Hyunjae, effectively dismissing him.

Hyunjae should be grateful for the escape but he was so caught up trying to wrangle himself free of that net that he didn’t spare a moment to figure out his next plan of attack. 

His goal is to find a seat somewhere or, better yet, uncover a way to get backstage. Those doors over there by the curtains will surely lead him to some back room where the speakers wait their turn, where the auction’s merchandise is stored.

He bends at the waist a bit, pretending to further include himself in the table’s conversation, but he keeps his eyes on the perimeter of the room.

If he just goes straight for that door, he’ll attract attention, but--

Hold on.

The guards are moving strangely, he notices. Keeping to the corners, they are all shifting towards the room’s east wall, communicating through their earpieces. Four casual-clothes cops come into the room from a west corridor. Two go in one direction. Two go in another.

No one’s moving in a hurry but something’s up.

Or something is about to  _ be _ up and Hyunjae isn’t entirely confident that it’s not him they are after. 

It isn’t the time to stick around and figure such things out, though. There’s a hole in the guard’s formation along the back wall and though it’s not the door he’s had his eye on, Hyunjae turns from Director Sangyeon’s table to make a beeline towards it.

He can’t run. Not here. Not yet. But he’s thankful he’s got long enough legs to be able to put some hustle in his step without looking like he’s in a rush.

He’s almost there, when--

“Hold it,” a sharp voice cuts through the air.

Hyunjae ignores it. They could be addressing anyone.

“You. In the bright blue suit.”

Ugh. Hyunjae turns to his left and spots one of the casually-clothed police officers strolling directly towards him. A blue and white flannel shirt (probably the nicest thing he owns), under a thin jacket that does not hide the cuffs that dangle from his hips and a pair of thigh-hugging cargo pants. 

Hyunjae recognizes him immediately. It’s that annoying fucking detective who has been sniffing at his heels for most of the year, getting in the way, obstructing his jobs. 

Goddammit. He’s one of those fiesty ones. One of those dogs that don’t let go even when struck.

So many of Hyunjae and Sunwoo’s last few operations went sideways because this damn detective somehow caught wind of their schemes and stuck his pretty little nose in. That cultural heritage festival near Itaewon. That jewelry store job in Gangnam. That botched museum run not too far from the university hospital.

Detective Kevin Fucking Moon.

What the  _ hell _ is he doing all the way in Busan? 

Hyunjae hisses a swear under his breath. His only saving grace is that Kevin hasn’t recognized him yet. Probably  _ won’t  _ recognize him. Usually when they encounter each other like this, Hyunjae is in one of his more ridiculous outfits, a mask hiding most of his features.

“Where do you think you’re going,” the detective asks, his posture solid and firm despite his narrow build.

“Bathroom,” Hyunjae weakly offers, keeping his face turned away from him.

The excuse clearly doesn’t work. Detective Moon stands right in front of him, hands on his hips. “Bathroom’s that way,” the cop says, jerking his head towards the other side of the room without taking his eyes off of Hyunjae. “You don’t wanna go that way.”

Which means it’s exactly the direction Hyunjae wants to go. “Why?” He feigns innocence. “Are there no other bathrooms this way?” He gives the cop a shy grin. “I can’t make myself go when the bathroom’s crowded. Performance anxiety.”

Before Detective Moon can question him further, his phone rings. With an eye roll and a groan, he pulls it out of his jacket pocket and answers. It’s not on speaker, but the volume is up high enough that Hyunjae makes out the words ‘security breach’ and ‘close the perimeter’ through the noise of conversation in the event hall.

Replying to the order distracts the detective enough to give Hyunjae a chance to bolt towards the hallway.

The cop yells, “Hey,” at his back. “Get back here!”

Then the lights go out. 

Not something Hyunjae expects but he’ll work with it.

The darkness will only buy him a few moments.

He definitely can’t stop moving now. 

Hyunjae holds his hand out until his fingers brush against the wall and then he follows it out of the event hall, down the side corridor. He hears a vague shout of warning behind him but it’s drowned out by the ocean-like roar of voices as the confused and startled crowd of celebrities get riled up in the darkness. 

Hyunjae’s hand leaves the wall suddenly. The hallway cuts right, he realizes. He follows it down, moving faster and faster as his eyes adjust. 

Fortunately, no one seems to be occupying this particular corridor and he doesn’t run into anyone as he fumbles in his back pocket for a burner phone that he can use as a flashlight.

Shit.

He’s gotten a bit turned around. All of his map-memorizing has gone out the window now that he can’t see. Is this the hallway that leads to the hotel’s restaurant? Or the one that leads to the pool?

Shit! Is he on the east side or the west side? 

He’s usually good at keeping a level head, even with a gun aimed at his temple, but running into Detective Moon has spooked him. That man being here was not in any of his plans. What’s that fucker doing here anyway? Busan  _ can’t _ still be his jurisdiction.

Hyunjae gets to an intersection. He hears frightened voices to his left so he keeps going straight.

At long last, the hotel’s backup generator kicks in and the orange emergency lights pop on along the baseboard of the walls.

There are a handful of people out here, Hyunjae sees. They are just regular hotel guests, he figures, based on their plain outfits and confused faces. For a moment, Hyunjae thinks he’s gotten away when--

“Hey!”

It’s Detective Fucking Moon. Still fucking following him!

Hyunjae chances a glance over his shoulder and spots the fuckwad back at the intersection. “Hold it right there!”

But Hyunjae doesn’t hold shit. He was already half-running but now he’s sprinting. Full tilt. He gets a headstart on the guy, he’s positive, and turns left down the next hall, hoping and praying for some side room that he can duck into. 

God. What if Kevin calls backup? Hyunjae didn’t bring a single weapon with him knowing that security would be tight. All he’s got are his lockpicks, 3D printed from resin to avoid setting off the metal detectors. He can snatch off his belt and use that in a pinch but if he can avoid direct conflict at all, that would be ideal.

He spots some kind of office on the left, tries the door. It’s locked.

“Shit,” he fumes. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy.

He tries a door on the other side of the hall. Also locked. 

“Fuck.” 

These doors need a keycard, he catches on. He can’t lockpick his way through those. Not without some kind of machinery. Not without one of Sunwoo’s gadgets.

Kevin must have been closer to him than Hyunjae assumed. He can’t even twist around to try another door before he’s being tackled from behind. Practically flattened against the wall.

“Alright, mate,” Kevin growls out. He grabs one of Hyunjae’s wrists with one hand, shoves his face against the brick with the other. “You better stay quiet.”

“God, this reminds me of my last date,” Hyunjae comments. Chanhee was a freak.

“What did you say,” Detective Moon grunts.

Hyunjae hears the click-click-click of handcuffs being prepped. “You’re arresting me? On what grounds?”

“We’re on high alert and you’re moving suspiciously.” 

“Doesn’t sound like a good enough reason to me. Where’s your warrant? I want a lawyer!”

Kevin deflects. “Why’d you run?”

“Because you chased me!”

“I didn’t chase you until you ran.”

Fuming, Hyunjae turns as best he can in Kevin’s grip to peer into the man’s face.

And maybe Kevin finally gets a good look at him in the weird, dim, orange uplighting because he noticeably tenses. His eyes go wide. His mouth drops open. “Jaehyun?”

Hyunjae almost doesn’t recognize his own name, he’s gone by a nickname for so long.

Kevin says, “What the hell are you doing here, Jaehyun?”

Hyunjae rolls his eyes. He forgot about his cover story. About the tiny little ramen shop he runs with Hongjoong and San and Mingi. Now that Detective Moon’s suspicious of him, Hyunjae will have to leave the shop. Maybe even leave his neighborhood. He’ll have to break another fucking lease and move all of his shit again.

Great just great.

Now Kevin moves with far more urgency. He uses more strength. More force. He pulls Hyunjae’s arm back so forcefully that Hyunjae feels the sharp pain all the way up in his shoulder, in his neck. “Answer me. What the hell are you doing here?”

Hyunjae sighs. “I’m just here to be a Good Samaritan.”

That doesn’t stop the cop from slapping the cuffs around Hyunjae’s right wrist and then around his left. He’s not gentle at all when he pushes Hyunjae back up against the wall. “Your reckless behavior has led me to believe that you’ve got something to do with that advanced notice--that  _ threat _ \--we received this evening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m looking for the bathroom,” Hyunjae attempts. His voice is partially muffled because of how hard his cheek is pressed to the paint. He pulls his arms apart, testing the cuffs. They are sturdy. Solid. But he’s familiar with the model. Knows the ins and outs of them.

“Don’t play coy. I know someone like you wouldn’t have been invited to an event like this.” 

_ Someone like you _ , Hyunjae repeats in his head. Of course a thief wouldn’t be invited. But Kevin doesn’t know him as a thief. He know Hyunjae as a down-on-his-luck restauranteur who struggles to make ends meet. 

Kevin pats down Hyunjae’s shoulders, his back. He slips a hand beneath Hyunjae’s suit jacket to pat at his waist, gently grope his ass, and even slap a hand up and down his thighs, looking for a weapon. He doesn’t find one.

Hyunjae’s patience runs thin. “Look, can you let me go? I don’t know anything about that goddamn diamond!” And it’s not until the words are out of his mouth that Hyunjae realizes how badly he’s fucked up.

“I said nothing about a diamond.” Kevin chuckles. Proud of himself. He whirls Hyunjae around so that they’re facing each other, nearly nose to nose. “That was practically a confession. Though I never would have expected it out of you.” The cop swings his badge past Hyunjae’s eyes. “Detective Kevin Moon,” he announces himself, “and you’re coming with me.”

“Sorry, pal,” Hyunjae huffs. “I really have to go.”

There’s a tense moment. The air crackles between them. Then the tension snaps. “To the bathroom?” Kevin tilts his head in confusion. “You were  _ serious _ about that?”

“Yeah, no, yeah,” Hyunjae says quickly. He’d forgotten his shit excuse already. He holds up the handcuffs he was supposed to be locked up in and then tosses the useless things to the carpet. “I gotta go.” Then he’s sprinting down the hall, adrenaline and anxiety fueling his steps.

The element of surprise buys him only two or three seconds before Kevin yells, behind him, “Stop, thief! I know you’re behind all this!”

Hyunjae can’t help but be offended. He’s a thief, yes, but he’s not the thief they’re looking for! He hasn’t even found the diamond yet but apparently there’s someone else here who already has it. Or is about to have it. The power outage is probably their cover. Which, if he’s giving credit where it’s due, is golden. 

Why didn’t he think of that?

Hyunjae sprints to the end of the hall. His lungs burn. His knees lock up. A cramp grips his left calf. Dammit. He’s spent the last few weeks sitting in front of a computer researching and digging up info instead of keeping limber. This is what he gets! Damn that Sunwoo!

Kevin’s footsteps are right behind him and closing in fast. Shit. The guy must have done track and field in school.

Hyunjae turns a corner and tries the first set of doors he sees. They’re unlocked, thank fuck, but no sooner has he yanked the door open and charged inside, Kevin’s right behind him, hand gripping Hyunjae’s neck ferociously tight, fingernails digging into his skin.

The choking grip makes Hyunjae freeze up. Makes him suck in a breath. Sends an odd tingle to the base of his spine and towards his gut. Damn that Chanhee to hell for introducing him to fuckshit like this!

“You’re not worming your way out of this,” Kevin sneers. “You’re not leaving this place with that diamond.”

“I don’t have it,” Hyunjae wheezes. “That’s the truth!” He feels Kevin’s fingers dig tight into his throat and he sucks in a wheezing breath.

Doubtfully, Kevin pats him down yet again with his free hand. This time, he’s a bit more careful. More deliberate. His palm presses firmly against Hyunjae’s chest, against his ribs, against both hips, against the base of his spine. Anywhere he can have a pocket or store a bag.

Hyunjae gags and, at long last, Kevin unhands his neck. 

For a second, the thief crumples a little, swallowing air back into his lungs, shivering as goosebumps dance across his arms. As misplaced pleasure warms the pit of his stomach.

“I’m going to stop you,” Kevin states in a low, calm, confident voice. “I’m going to put you behind bars and make you pay for your crimes. Justice will be served.”

Blah blah blah blah.

Hyunjae’s heard similar speeches from similar detectives over the years. He’s heard this kind of thing from that Detective Bae fellow before Hyunjae slipped away from him so many times that the poor guy quit the force to be a musician or some shit.

Kevin will do the same. Eventually. He looks like he plays piano.

All of those thoughts leave his head as he regains his focus. As he manages to get a handle on his breathing.

Hyunjae realizes he’s in the hotel’s security room. A dozen massive computer monitors are lined up on several long, metal desks and the screens show him hundreds and hundreds of dizzying, blue-tinted camera feeds. It’s overly warm and stuffy in the room from all of the whirring computers but, for some strange reason, the chairs in front of the consoles are empty. Are the guys who are supposed to be here on break? Or were they called away? 

Is this part of the real thief’s cover?

That doesn’t help Hyunjae at all, though. 

He can’t get to the diamond. He can’t get this stupid cop off his ballsack.

In less than a breath, Kevin’s got his back pinned against the hot, vibrating surface of some server tower. “You’re not getting your hands on that diamond,” Kevin snarls in his face.

Hyunjae says, “So it hasn’t been taken yet?”

Kevin furrows his brow. “You saying you’re not the only one after it?”

Shit. Why can’t he keep his mouth shut?

Ugh. There the guy goes with those handcuffs again. The same pair, too. Hyunjae rolls his eyes. Chanhee’s bound him up worse than this. Just for practice. At least Hyunjae’s arms are in front of his body this time around. That makes it easier. He says, “You’re not going to be able to keep me in these things.”

Kevin locks the cuffs around Hyunjae’s wrists far far tighter than he needs to. “I’ll just tape your fingers together.”

Hyunjae snorts. “Do you even  _ have _ tape?” His fingers aren’t the key here. It’s all in the wrist! And he can barely move them but it’s still just barely enough. “Tape me up and I’ll show you a magic trick.”

Kevin pats his pockets as if he’s seriously got a roll of tape in his cargo pants. He doesn’t. Then he searches the surface of the desk for a tape dispenser. When he comes up empty, he turns back to Hyunjae and solves the problem with the next best thing. His own hands. He squeezes his hands tight around Hyunjae’s fingers and holds him still like that’ll work.

To be honest, it actually does. 

Hyunjae won’t be able to wriggle his way free with Kevin’s fingers squeezing his joints still.

Hyunjae gives the guy a good long look. Now that he’s thought about it, this is the first time they’ve been so close. Face to face.

At the noodle restaurant, there was always the length of the cash wrap between them. 

Even when Hyunjae’s in disguise, when he’s the masked thief H on the scene of his next magnificent heist, Hyunjae’s always got his back turned to the cop, running for the hills. Using the crowd to help hide his escape. 

Hyunjae doesn’t know how he’s wound up caught this time out of all of the times they’ve been through this like a Saturday morning cartoon but, now that Hyunjae’s looking, he can’t bring himself to  _ stop _ looking. 

Kevin’s handsome. Like… he’s stupidly pretty. Like an idol. Like a model. 

Really round cheeks juxtaposed by a sharp chin. An angular jaw dusted with  _ just enough _ of a five o’clock shadow to be kind of hot. His hair is dark and mussed from all of his running but it’s neatly trimmed and smells like sweat and cheap drugstore shampoo. Kevin has pretty eyes, Hyunjae notices. Bright honey brown, framed by long, full lashes. A cute button nose. Thin, slightly chapped, chewed-on lips but that doesn’t stop them from being totally kissable.

Hyunjae doesn’t realize he’s staring, that he’s  _ leaning in _ , until Kevin clears his throat and tilts his head back.

Fuck.

“No funny business,” Kevin says, but his voice has lost the axe-sharp edge it’s had up until now.

Hyunjae leans back, thunks his head against the server tower behind him. What the hell is wrong with him? What’s he even  _ thinking _ ? He comes face to face with an obstacle and wants to make out with it? How amateurish!

The fan inside the machinery behind him whirls higher to keep the insides cool. Hyunjae realizes he’s sweating. And he’s not sure if it’s because he’s hot in the room or just hot under the collar with a sudden bout of lust.

“I’m gonna take you in for questioning,” Kevin states, asserting control over the situation. “I’ll let you spend a night or two in a cell. I’ll find out who you’re working for.”

Such a ridiculous statement makes Hyunjae snort up a laugh. “I’m my own boss.” Sure, he ran with that gang back in high school and let that little bastard Changkyun command him like a toy but he hasn’t taken orders from anyone since he’s put on his big boy britches. “And I’m here alone.”

Kevin clearly doesn’t believe him. He cuts his eyes sideways at Hyunjae, clearly unable to trust the guy as far as he can throw him. “You? Infiltrating a place like this by yourself?” He doesn’t seem to realize how simple of a task that is.

“I’m here alone right now, aren’t I,” Hyunjae shoots back. “Got past all you guards and pigs without a single one of you sniffing me out.”

“ _ I _ caught you,” Kevin corrects. “And you admitted yourself that you’re after the diamond.”

But Hyunjae’s coming in blind here and doesn’t even know where the goddamn gem is! His preparations fell short right here at the end. Right when it all mattered. “I’m not the thief you’re looking for.”

“This isn’t Star Wars,” Kevin snaps. But then his attitude changes. Something clicks in his head as he stares into Hyunjae’s bored face. Maybe it’s Hyunjae’s expression or something in his eyes or his posture but Kevin looks at him like he’s just recognized him even though they’ve known each other for a while. “You were at that jewelry store,” Kevin says. “Fourth floor of the department store.”

Uh oh.

Holy fucking shit.

In all Hyunjae’s years of doing this, of escaping jail time by the skin of his teeth, no one who isn’t already a thief has ever realized he’s H before. Hyunjae’s well and truly fucked now.

Kevin continues, “You took all of those necklaces!”

“Just because I was there doesn’t mean I took anything.” He definitely took things.  _ Many _ things.

“And at that cultural heritage festival…”

“I was merely enjoying the festivities.” 

Kevin doesn’t buy it. “I  _ know _ you’re connected with that heist out of Bucheon.”

That had been Haknyeon’s doing but Hyunjae’s not about to throw a ‘coworker’ under the bus. He says instead, “You’ll find no evidence connecting that to me.” Which is fact. He hadn’t been there.

“Count your days, phantom thief,” says Kevin. “Criminals like you won’t run these streets for long.” His phone rings again. It pains him to do it, but he releases Hyunjae’s hands in order to fish the device out of his snug-fitting cargo pants. He turns around, showing his back.

Before the man even answers the call, Hyunjae slips out of the cuffs and sets them down on the table near him like he’s chucking his keys on the side table after coming home from a long day of work. 

This is such a fucking nuisance. 

He’s doing it easily right now but too much more strain on his wrist and he’ll dislocate it or break it, one, and that’ll be a hassle now that he’s no longer got Sunwoo to help him reset him. But that’s not even the most important thing! His identity has been revealed and he’s no longer sure just changing addresses will be enough to keep the heat off his ass. But, fuck, he may be a thief but he’s not a murderer. He’s never killed. Ad he isn’t sure he can. 

Fuck it. He’s losing precious seconds here, wasting time watching this detective fumble around. If Hyunjae hadn’t gotten hung up here, he’d have found the diamond by now! He gives Kevin the bare minimum of his attention as the man grunts his way through his side of the conversation. (“Yessir.” “Mmhmm.” “I’ve got my eye on a suspicious individual.” “Possibly connected to past cases.” “Yes. Yes. I see. Yes.”) The volume on Kevin’s phone is still high and Hyunjae can hear the low, gruff voice of the man’s superior on the other end, but he can’t quite pick up individual words with the loud hum of the computers and machinery in his ears.

Kevin says, “I know you’re part of a team.”

And it takes Hyunjae a moment to realize that he’s the one being directly addressed. He looks up and stares right into Kevin’s icy gaze. “Were you not listening? I just told you that I’m here alone.”

“You just don’t want to endanger your crew. You don’t want to be a snitch.”

“I have no crew.” Not since Sunwoo abandoned him.

“This is all part of your elaborate scheme,” Kevin keeps going. “Leave a calling card announcing your future theft of the diamond and then you steal it out from under everyone’s noses.”

“Yeah, that’s usually how we phantom thieves do things,” Hyunjae agrees. 

“You’re making a mockery of law enforcement.”

“Yes. You get it now. Glad we’re on the same page.” And now that Hyunjae thinks about it, Sunwoo handled the calling cards too. Even made them the old-fashioned way cutting letters out of magazines and gluing them to cardstock. “You pigs can’t catch us even when we tell you exactly when and where we’ll be. Isn’t that sad?”

“But I’ve caught you,” Kevin reminds him. Again. “And I’m not letting you go.”

Romantic, perhaps, but Hyunjae’s attention goes elsewhere.

He looks up. Something on one of the screens, on one of the camera feeds, just changed but he can’t tell  _ what _ .

Kevin lifts his phone and focuses on his conversation again, unaware of the actual suspicious activity happening behind him.

That just gives Hyunjae time to really look at the camera feeds. There’s movement all over the place. All throughout the building. Most of the feeds show crowds of confused, half-panicked people being ushered back to their seats. Even some of the hotel’s regular guests are wandering up and down the dimly-lit halls, catching on to the fact that something’s up. Occasionally, hotel staff stops them in the hall and wave them back towards their rooms. Half the time, the guests don’t obey. Every now and then, a duo of guards bolts down a secluded hall, their suits merely smears of black across the screens. Like moving shadows.

It seems like the hotel can’t get the main power back on.

That may also be part of the real thief’s plan.

Kevin’s still on the phone. He loudly exclaims, “They’ve confirmed that it’s missing? When? Just now? But--” He shifts his body towards Hyunjae, finally accepting that he really does have the wrong thief.

Something else changes on one of the screens. 

Hyunjae squints. Kevin’s got him pressed into the corner so the angle is bad but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid.

One by one by one, the camera feeds are going out. Being  _ cut _ out. The halls are still half-dark with only the backup lights on so the cameras are hardly picking up shit anyways but Hyunjae still watches the little screens go black as something or  _ someone _ fucks with the cams. No. The feeds aren’t being cut all willy nilly. There’s a pattern. The ones up and down a specific hallway, he figures. The East Tower, the screen over there is labeled. Somewhere in  _ this _ building. 

The feeds aren’t in vibrant color but it’s still difficult to mistake Eric’s bleached blonde hair. Like a halo shining bright in the darkness. He should really hide that shit. Or dye it.

Eric has discarded his hotel staff uniform for the black and white suit of one of the security guards but it’s clear from his movements that he’s avoiding the other patrols as opposed to trying to slip in and be a part of them. Does he know how well these cameras are catching his face? Or maybe it’s because Hyunjae knows him so well that he can recognize the guy even underneath that showy mask? There’s a particularly bulky case tucked under Eric’s arm and Hyunjae will bet money that the diamond is in it. Eric says something that Hyunjae can’t hear, probably to his guy-in-the-chair through the earpiece, and then the camera feed Hyunjae’s spotted him on goes black.

Eric works fast. He’s already got the damn thing! It couldn’t have been but fifteen minutes since the lights went out.

Then again, they were called phantom thieves for a reason. They were in and out. Like ghosts.

Kevin wraps up his phone call. He shoves his phone in his pocket and starts to turn away. He’ll spot the blacked-out cam feeds in seconds, will probably spot that flash of bright hair right after and sic his men on Eric before the guy makes it out of the building. 

Hyunjae doesn’t plan. He doesn’t think. He just moves. 

He grabs Kevin by the shoulder, spins him back around and kisses him. Just like that. 

It’s almost hilarious how fast Kevin kisses him back. Not a shred of doubt. Not a second of hesitation. Not even a moment of resistance. He succumbs like he’s been waiting for this moment. Like he’s been dreaming of it. Kevin sucks in a breath and pushes his tongue between Hyunjae’s teeth. The kiss deepens. Fills with heat. Kevin’s tongue tastes sweet. Fruity. Like it hasn’t been too long since he’s been chewing on gum or candy. 

Hyunjae swallows air like he’s nearly drowned. Kevin’s lips are soft and crash against his rhythmically. Goddamn, he’s a good kisser. Better than Sunwoo. Better than Chanhee. Hyunjae sucks on the tip of the man’s tongue and Kevin shivers and more forcefully fucks his tongue between Hyunjae’s teeth. Right after, he presses his slim little leg between Hyunjae’s thighs and the friction shocks a moan from Hyunjae’s throat. Kevin tilts his head, goes for Hyunjae’s lips at a different angle. Ferociously. Like he’s been waiting for this chance. Hyunjae pulls back, out of air. 

He’s got an idea. “I can prove to you that I’ve got nothing to do with this whole thing. I can prove that you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Where’s your evidence,” Kevin demands. He’s already back in serious mode even so soon after  _ all of that _ .

“Right here.” Hyunjae drops to his knees. He barely has the room to do so with the server tower right at his spine and with Kevin’s legs nearly at his chest, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching up and unbuckling Kevin’s shitty leather belt and yanking down his zipper. He peels back the clothing to reveal remarkably plain briefs underneath. Not even some funky designer brand. 

Oh well. Hyunjae starts pulling those down as well.

He isn’t sure if he should be worried or ecstatic that Kevin doesn’t stop him. That he just stands there and watches every moment with glazed-over eyes and slightly parted lips.

Then it’s like he gets a hold of himself. “What’s this ‘evidence’ going to prove,” Kevin asks, low and soft. Hardly audible over the whir of the machines around them. He sucks a breath in between his teeth when Hyunjae tugs the man’s dick free of his underwear. 

“That I am not part of this thief crew you speak of. That I am innocent. That I was here under…  _ police surveillance _ the entire time the crime was underway,” Hyunjae lists off. He squeezes Kevin’s half-hard dick in his gloved fist. He feels how warm it is, even through the leather. This is some delicate work that needs doing and he’s tempted to take his glove off to feel how soft the skin of Kevin’s dick is. To feel its warmth on his palm. Later, he decides. Next time. 

Or never. 

He’ll ruin the look of his outfit if he takes off his gloves. 

Hyunjae rubs his thumb up and down the shaft and smirks as he watches Kevin’s dick stiffen and fill out. He says, “If I’m here, being watched by you, an upstanding member of our great country’s police force, I can prove that I have absolutely no connection to the diamond theft.” He looks up at Kevin’s face.

The man blinks down at him. It’s obvious that he’s nearly gone already. That he’s not even properly listening. He just lets out a little gasp as Hyunjae runs a gloved finger between his balls.

Hyunjae makes a solid argument for his case by tipping his face forward and sucking Kevin’s dick into his mouth. Just the head. The taste is a little salty, a little sweaty, but Hyunjae swirls his tongue around the tip anyway, lapping up the taste. 

A moan jumps out of Kevin’s mouth and he throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut, fingers unclenching and clenching back into a fist.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Hyunjae swivels his head and gets a look at the computer monitors again. A few of the camera feeds have popped back on and it takes a perilous moment before Hyunjae spots Eric making his way towards a stairwell.  _ Good _ , Hyunjae thinks,  _ because the cops are boxed in around the elevators _ . He can distract Kevin for at least three or four minutes.

Hyunjae focuses on the task at hand. 

At mouth. 

He swirls his tongue around the tip of Kevin’s dick again before pressing it flat against the underside. Licking. Slurping. Breath by breath, Kevin’s dick fills out to full hardness inside his mouth. He pulls off of it, the suction making a wet, loud noise that echoes around the claustrophobically tight, humid room. Hyunjae gets some spit on the tip of his tongue and then licks a stripe up the length of the shaft. He gives an almost tender kiss to the head before he pulls all the way back.

Hyunjae takes a moment to look at it.

It’s a pretty nice dick, he decides. Uncut. Nick, dark mushroom head but slimmer near the middle. A slight hook to the left. Hyunjae gives it one slow stroke up, and then an even slower stroke down, pulling back the foreskin until the reddish-pink skin around the slit is revealed, like a pretty flower blooming in sunlight.

Kevin lets out a low, frustrated noise. He pushes his hips forward, aiming the tip of his dick towards Hyunjae’s parted lips but Hyunjae, maddeningly patient, gives him nothing but the lightest lick for his trouble. 

Kevin groans again. He reaches down as if to grab a fistful of Hyunjae’s hair but the thief knocks his hand away before his carefully crafted hairstyle is ruined. Kevin sighs, “Do you know what to do, babe?”

“Call me babe one more time and I’ll fucking bite your balls off.”

“Who’s the one who can put you behind bars?”

“But who’s the one in control here,” Hyunjae snaps back. And then, to prove his point, he wraps his lips around the head of Kevin’s dick and lightly lightly  _ lightly _ sucks.

Kevin full-body shudders. “You are,” he chokes out. “Fucking shit. You are.  _ You _ are.”

Damn straight.

Hyunjae goes for gold. He sucks the whole thing down, bit by bit, until his nose is buried in Kevin’s pubic hair. Until he can feel Kevin’s dick tap the back of his throat.

A buzzing noise cuts into the room and it takes both of them a moment to recognize it as the noise of Kevin’s phone vibrating with yet another incoming call. Hyunjae looks up at him, sees how Kevin tenses up even though he maintains eye contact. It’s probably a bad idea for him to ignore his phone calls but it’s a risk the guy is willing to take. The guy just stares down at him and Hyunjae wonders how pretty of a picture he’d make, on his knees in this expensive as fuck suit, a pretty little cock in his mouth.

Seconds later, Kevin’s phone stops vibrating in his pocket. Kevin exhales slowly. Visible unwinds.

They start again.

Hyunjae pulls off of the tip. Slow. Slow. He revels in the friction as Kevin’s dick slides across his lips. As it bobs in the air in front of his nose as he comes off of it. 

He does that same technique with his hand again, slowly stroking up towards the head before pulling down, pulling down, drawing back the foreskin until he sees Kevin’s slit. Even through his gloves, he feels Kevin’s dick twitch. Feels his pulse race through his veins. 

Hyunjae does it again. Slow drag upwards, slow pull downwards. Teasing. 

Every time he draws back the foreskin, he sticks out his tongue and gently licks at Kevin’s slit. Tastes. It takes a few tries then, finally, at long last, a globe of clear precum bubbles out of the slit. Hyunjae puts the tip of his tongue to it and watches as Kevin’s fingers twitch, as the muscles in his right thigh jump. Kevin tastes wonderfully bitter on Hyunjae’s tongue. Sharp and fizzy. When Hyunjae pulls back, the string of precum stretches between his bottom lip and the tip of Kevin’s dick. 

It hangs there, tying them together. Connecting them.

Then the tension snaps. The string breaks.

Kevin whines.

Hyunjae looks up at him. Looks him straight in the face. Right in the eye.

“You’ve got such nice lips,” Kevin praises. His voice is little more than a froggy rasp and he clears his throat inelegantly. He opens his mouth to say something else but trembles, shakes, moans, as an aftershock of pleasure ricochets through him.

Hyunjae tilts forward, pulls his hand off of the dick and sucks the shaft down to the base again. Kevin’s dick is comfortably small and fits perfectly across Hyunjae’s tongue. He only has to tilt his head a little to accommodate the crook in its shape. Not fat or long enough to gag on but his mouth still feels nice and full. Hyunjae pulls off of it, bit by bit, and laps spit and half-swallowed precum across the head.

“Fuck,” Kevin moans, watching every moment.

The second the detective shuts his eyes, Hyunjae steals another glance at the computer monitors. Eric’s in another hallway now. The camera feeds continue to blink out and then back in, covering his trail, yet, at the same time, making such a trail all the more obvious to any guard on duty. Doesn’t he know it’s best to route in hours-old footage as opposed to completely cutting off the feeds? Hyunjae looks back up at Kevin right as the man blinks open his eyes, right as the man mutters out a breathy, shaky, “fucking shit, dude. You look so good with spit all down your chin.” 

Hyunjae holds his gaze. He stares up into those unfocused eyes. He watches those lashes flutter as Kevin blinks. As the man’s face goes red. It’s a little shocking, Hyunjae decides, how placid Kevin becomes when, not five minutes earlier, he’d been so forceful with the cuffs. So angry. So  _ physical _ . 

But then things change. 

Kevin holds something up in front of Hyunjae’s face. So close that he almost can’t focus on it and see what it is. He blinks. Squints. He recognizes it. 

Kevin’s phone.

Is he planning on taking pics? 

Ahh, this might be a slight issue. Not that Hyunjae cares about being photographed with a dick in his mouth. It’s just that he’s really picky about his angles and the lighting in here has to suck.

He pulls off of Kevin’s dick and smacks his lips around the salty flavor. Hyunjae stands, grips Kevin by the wrist and reverses their positions like it’s a dance move.

God. Kevin moves so eagerly. 

Drops to his knees so readily. 

Hands over his phone without a word, like all of this was his idea from the start.

Hyunjae spreads his legs wide and plants himself firmly between Kevin’s form and the bank of computer monitors. Anything to block his view. 

Kevin skips undoing the tricky notch on Hyunjae’s Gucci belt. He just goes for the zipper of his bright teal dress pants, fumbles with the opening until he finds the slot in Hyunjae’s designer boxers, then he pulls Hyunjae’s erection free of its silky confines.

Kevin gasps. “Oh…” It must be bigger around than he’s expecting. 

Hyunjae smirks. He prompts, “If you wanna switch back…” 

“No, no, no. I got it.” Kevin grips it by the base with his hand and licks at the tip of Hyunjae’s cock.

Hyunjae fidgets with the phone’s camera. He taps the screen to bring Kevin into focus. “Smile,” he coos. Then he waits for Kevin to look up at him before he snaps the pic. “Hmm. Let’s turn the flash off.” He lines up another shot and snaps it.

Kevin was pretty before. Of course he was. But he looks prettier with his mouth stretched wide around a dick, with his cheeks inflated from the effort, his lips messy with spit.

Hyunjae snaps another pic. Then another. Then another. He even reaches down with a gloved hand to grip Kevin by the jaw to tilt his head to the left and get more flattering angles.

Kevin makes it so easy for him. He looks straight up into the lens as he bobs his head up and down, up and down, swallowing down as much of Hyunjae’s thick cock as he can manage. 

Let’s just say he can’t get far. 

He gags. Hard. 

His eyes water up almost instantly and Hyunjae gets a pic of that too.

Their fun is halted again as Kevin’s phone rings in Hyunjae’s hand, the pictures disappearing. 

Kevin pulls off of Hyunjae’s dick. Voice hoarse, he asks, “Who is it?”

“It just says Ji.” 

“Ignore it,” Kevin grunts. 

“You sure,” Hyunjae asks, but he’s already declining the call.

“I’m sure.” Then Kevin slides Hyunjae’s cock back in his mouth. His tongue moves faster now. Like he’s aware his time is running out. With his fist, he strokes whatever length of cock he can’t feed down his throat. He’s in a hurry now. There’s a job outside this room he gets paid taxpayer’s money to do but instead he’s here, on his knees, eyes red-rimmed, sucking dick. Swirling his tongue around Hyunjae’s circumcised head.

Hyunjae swipes across the screen to switch from camera to video and starts filming. These things are always better with audio. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Hyunjae chides when Kevin gags on his cock again. “Focus on the tip.”

That just makes Kevin more determined. The grunt in his throat is clearly his rebellious decline of Hyunjae’s suggestion. 

Kevin furrows his eyebrows in concentration, balls his free hand into a fist and then tries to push Hyunjae’s cock down his throat again. He manages to get further this time, mouth wrapping tight around the girth at the middle of the shaft. Hyunjae feels the head of his cock push back into Kevin’s throat. He feels the muscles constrict around him. Gripping him. Feels Kevin’s rough tongue push up hard into the underside. Kevin hollows out his cheeks and  _ sucks _ .

Hyunjae feels like passing out. His head swims. A moan slips out from between his clenched teeth.

A bead of sweat drips down Kevin’s forehead and he blinks rapidly to keep it from sliding into his eye.

Hyunjae suddenly remembers why he’s in here doing this. 

He reaches down, grabs a fistful of Kevin’s hair and pulls hard, making the guy squeeze his eyes shut and take more cock down his throat than he can handle.

As Kevin wheezes and chokes and gags, Hyunjae glances over at the computer monitors. Eric seems to have made it to the ground floor of the building. But, even without Kevin’s eyes on the screens, some other cop on the scene has tracked Eric’s movements and the cops are hot on his ass. Hyunjae can’t really get a feel for location but he’s got a feeling that Eric’s closing in on some back hallway and, hopefully, his exit. 

Eric passes close to one of the cameras. He looks straight into the lens and holds up a peace sign like he’s acknowledging being watched. The little bastard. Then the feed cuts to black.

Kevin gags again and yanks back against Hyunjae’s hold on his hair.

Hyunjae looks down at him.

Kevin’s eyes are red from tears. He really can’t suck dick to save his life, can he?

“Just jerk me off,” Hyunjae suggests. “I’m close.” And more because of adrenaline than anything. They’ve only been going at it a few minutes but this is fine. He kinda wants to see how great his cum looks sprayed across Kevin’s handsome face.

But Kevin denies him such a sight. Despite his awful track record, he works his mouth around Hyunjae’s cock again and bobs his head up and down, taking in more and more. His movements are fast, shallow, impatient. He wants Hyunjae to cum. Now.

Hyunjae almost forgets that he’s filming this whole thing and has to reposition the phone to get a good closeup of his cock sliding in and out of Kevin’s mouth, spit bubbling up over the rim of the man’s mouth. Saliva drips from his shaft in messy coils. 

A beautiful sight.

It’s a rough, fast, mediocre blowjob but Hyunjae doesn’t attempt to slow the man. He just grunts and props a hand up on the server tower to hold himself up as his ankle threatens to give. “Close,” he warns. Are his ears playing tricks on him or can he hear the thunder of footsteps right outside in the hall? “Close, Kev.”

Kevin acknowledges the warning by dropping his jaw and taking Hyunjae’s cock deep.  _ Deep _ . To the back of his throat. 

The wet, hot sensation of it sends an electric jolt through Hyunjae’s body and he aims the phone at Kevin’s blown-out pupils as he cums down the detective’s throat, choking back a whine.

It’s messy. Kevin chokes almost immediately and coughs Hyunjae’s cum back across his cock. Kevin pulls off of it, choking, but it’s actually kind of hot watching all that spit and cum drip out of his mouth and stain his wrinkled pants and shirt.

Hyunjae pulls his cock free of Kevin’s grip and stashes himself back in his boxers, even as one last spurt of cum gets all over his fingertips and the silk of his underwear. He zips up. Smooths down the front of his slacks. Sticks his cum-sticky fingers in his mouth to suck them clean.

Kevin, still on his knees, still coughing, wipes his mouth with his jacket sleeve with one hand as he attempts to jerk himself off with the other.

“We’re about to have company,” Hyunjae tells him. He points the tip of his shoe towards Kevin’s dick. “I wouldn’t do that. Unless you like getting caught.” And he’s not sure he can handle another freak so soon after Chanhee. Hyunjae belatedly realizes he’s still got Kevin’s phone in his hand. The video is still recording, the lens trained on Kevin’s soppy, dripping chin. Hyunjae cuts off the video and drops the phone onto Kevin’s lap as the man languidly zips himself back up, as if he’s not aware of the messy state he’s in.

As soon as Hyunjae steps across the small room and grips the handle of the security room door with his gloved hands, it’s being pulled open from the outside. 

Three cops rush in, shouting over each other. Their words are a rush of syllables. Something about finding guards hogtied and gagged in the room across the hall. Something about the suspect having left the building and that a perimeter needs to be established. Maybe it’s because they’re in a rush, but the three of them run right past Hyunjae, eyes only on the bank of computer monitors. 

Hyunjae spares a glance into the opposite corner long enough to see that Kevin’s gotten himself to his feet. 

The guy looks rough. Frazzled. Maybe he can explain away the white on his chin and shirt and pants. Maybe he can’t.

It’s not Hyunjae’s problem now. The only thought on his mind is that he’s surely bought Eric enough time by now. Without a sound, he dashes out into the hall, unseen. 

♢

Outside, not even ten minutes later, Hyunjae walks across the parking lot at a leisurely pace. 

The overall atmosphere in the place isn’t  _ panicked _ , he’d say, but it’s quite obvious that tonight’s event has ended far earlier and far more abruptly than anyone has planned for. Vans with black-tinted windows are lined up outside of the hotel’s front doors, awaiting their celebrity passengers. Even now, traffic is backing up on the main roads as a result of the mass exodus.

Hyunjae follows the flow of people, keeping to the fringes of the crowd and tracking the movements of every cop with his eyes. 

He  _ should _ be in the clear. If anything, Kevin can vouch for him, but Hyunjae knows better than to trust the police. 

At least he shouldn’t be as easy to track from a distance now. He discarded his neon-bright suit down the hotel’s garbage chute earlier, comforted by the knowledge that they have an incinerator on hand to turn his presence here to ash. Now he wears a pair of board shorts, some flip-flops and a hotel-brand shirt, bought with cash from the downstairs gift shop. It clashes with his leather gloves but he never goes anywhere without them.

He hopes he looks like a tourist. It’s the best he can do at the moment.

“What a bust,” he groans.

His body is sore, no thanks to the detective, and his heart sags knowing that the last few weeks of planning have been a waste.

He’s been defeated.

His ass has been properly handed to him and he’s not even sure he can be mad about it.

Hyunjae stares up at the sky. Pitch black without a moon, the stars are hidden beneath blankets of fast-moving clouds.

He replays the night in his head over and over. Tries to work out where he went wrong. What he could have done better. If only he had done this instead of that. If only he’d gone one way instead of the other! And Kevin. Goddammit. If only that cop hadn’t gotten in the way… Like he’d been making it his job or something.

Hyunjae’s pay-as-you-go phone dings in his hand, notifying him that the ride share he’s called is five minutes away.  _ This is alright _ , he decides. You win some, you lose some. That’s just life. And the fact that he’s not being escorted out of here in handcuffs is a bonus! Maybe he should thank his cock for that.

On the far side of the parking lot, ocean breeze at his back, he pauses near the curb and watches the cars and transit buses and limos pass by. Everyone’s headed in the same direction, inland towards town. There’s even a squad car on the side of the road, an officer helping direct traffic.

Hyunjae decides he’ll stay in Busan a few days to avoid the heightened security that he knows will be at the bus stations and at the airport. 

Besides, the noodle shop is probably the first place Kevin will go look for him so it would be best if he stayed away. He doesn’t want to involve Hongjoong and those boys in his mess.

He’s at the beach! He should enjoy it.

Even if he failed.

“Thanks for the distraction, man,” comes a voice. It’s velvety-smooth and all too familiar and  _ way too close _ .

Hyunjae turns to his right and sees Eric standing next to him on the sidewalk. Either the guy is a mastermind at sneaking through bushes or Hyunjae’s losing his touch when it comes to keeping an eye on his surroundings.

The guy has changed outfits (again), but that shit-eating grin is still in place. A black beanie hides his yellow hair. There’s a heavily-stickered guitar case hanging off his left shoulder and his Doc Martens are laced like skateboard shoes instead of boots. A garish leopard print silk shirt is only half-buttoned and hangs off of his slender form like opulent drapery. In contrast, he’s zipped up in leather pants so skin tight that it’s a marvel he can even breathe and walk about in them. Hyunjae briefly wonders how the guy will get out of them. He wonders if Eric will need help with that. Instead, he says, “I did it to save my own ass more than I did it to save yours.”

“Still,” Eric shrugs, “good looking out.” He glances up towards the sky as a helicopter flies low, pointed inland. “I’ll lay low. For at least a week. Then I’ll get out of here.” Eric checks his watch. A simple thing with a red silicone strap. Shockingly common for a man who  _ has _ to have millions in stolen bills from his work over the years. 

“I could have turned you in,” Hyunjae says. As if Eric doesn’t already know that.

“But you didn’t,” Eric replies, not looking up. Not the least bit afraid. “Honor among thieves and all that jazz.”

“Isn’t the saying  _ no _ honor among thieves?” Hyunjae rolls his eyes. It feels weird to be so calm standing next to the man who beat him. Who stole the diamond out from under him. 

Eric continues, “We may not be allies but aren’t we still on the same side? Technically?”

“On what planet?”

“Technically,” Eric repeats, grinning.

Hyunjae sighs. “You won’t hand over the diamond if I ask nicely, will you?”

“Afraid not, my man. Finders keepers. I’ve already got a buyer out of South Africa I gotta meet up with at the start of next month.” Eric grunts and shifts the weight of the guitar case on his shoulder.

That’s where the diamond is, Hyunjae figures. Then he shakes his head. No. Eric’s probably already hid the diamond somewhere else, somewhere entirely unrelated, so that if he gets caught tonight, somehow, the diamond won’t be on his person.

Eric looks up at him. “Because you helped me, I figured I’d help you and hand over some info.”

Hyunjae sighs. He knows that look! “What are you scheming?”

Eric opens his mouth but then clamps it shut, gazes somewhere past Hyunjae’s shoulder.

Knowing better than to just whip his head around, Hyunjae keeps his eyes on Eric’s face, on his hands (you can never be too safe around a thief.) Hyunjae doesn’t have to wait long. A handful of seconds later, two cop cars roar past. No sirens going, but it’s obvious they are heading to the hotel as backup. “We got out just in time,” Hyunjae comments.

“No shit,” Eric says with a giggle.

By the skin of their damn teeth, is more like it. If Eric had been  _ any _ slower!

Hell, if  _ he _ had taken any longer to cum!

“About that info you claim you have for me,” Hyunjae redirects. “What do you want in exchange?”

Eric snorts. “I’m not asking for a blow job.”

Hyunjae glares at him. “How do you even know about that?” Shit. Now that he thinks about it, Eric’s been talking about his ‘distraction’ this whole time. God. He’d only done it to buy Eric time! “Whatever,” he grunts. “Just tell me what you know, then.”

There’s a chance Eric will slip him something false to keep him off his trail but Hyunjae has also known Eric long enough, and run into him on enough jobs, to figure that the man might actually be honest enough to repay something as simple as a favor. Hyunjae’s phone dings again. Another notification from his ride share app. He looks up and he’s positive the pair of approaching headlights is his ride.

Then, when the silence stretches so thin that Hyunjae’s given up on getting anything at all, Eric casually states, “I know who Sunwoo’s working for now.”

And that in and of itself is enough to make Hyunjae whirl towards him, tense, ready to fight or run. No one should know he and Sunwoo were even working together! They’d left no trace of their partnership!

“Don’t shank me,” Eric requests, holding up both hands in mocking surrender. “But if you want to get back at him, I know the next job he and his new crew are about to jump on.” He lowers his hands. “I’ll give you a hint. They’re about to go to the States.”

“So not Australia, then.” And that can mean  _ so much _ . Just hearing ‘the States’ doesn’t narrow things down at all, considering the sheer number of potential targets New York has alone. Not counting the rest of that shit country.

The car slows down as it approaches the two of them on the curb. Their time together is running out. Hyunjae says, “I can’t beat a whole crew by myself.” Even if he somehow figures shit out, narrows down the city, finds out a date and catches a flight before the end of the month, they’ll always get info faster than he will. They’ll always have more hands, feet and eyes. The benefits of teamwork. “I’m alone, remember?”

To that, Eric just snorts. “I’m offering to team up, man. You and me. The best partnering with…” He motions to Hyunjae. “--the second best.” 

And Hyunjae definitely has something to say about that.

Eric cuts in fast, “We’ve both got some personal scores to settle. It’s not even about the artifacts. Let me know by this weekend. I’ve already booked a flight.”

Hyunjae glances over at Eric right as the approaching car’s headlights wash over him, revealing the hard-edged conviction in his gaze. He’s dead serious. 

“Let’s team up, then,” Hyunjae agrees. 

The car stops in front of them at the curb. Hyunjae confirms it’s the right vehicle using his phone and then walks up to the passenger-side window as the driver rolls it down. They exchange words briefly. Confirm things. “I’ll call you,” Hyunjae shouts over his shoulder when he’s done. He waits for a response but doesn’t get one. He slowly swings open the car door and is about to lower himself into the back seat when he looks back out at the sidewalk.

Eric is already gone.


End file.
